


A Myriad of Anniversaries

by MissSunFlower94



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: 1 year anniversary, Anniversary, Canon and AU, F/M, Fluff, fandom anniversary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSunFlower94/pseuds/MissSunFlower94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a variety of Butterfly Bogs (canon and au) celebrate their 1 year anniversary. (And an author celebrates the Strange Magic 1 year anniversary).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Art School AU

**Author's Note:**

> Art School AU belongs to Abutterflyobsession. I am using this 'verse with her permission.

Dawn was annoyed with them, which was rare since they had begun dating, Bog considered. For the past three and a half weeks it was hard for them to do anything wrong so long as they were still an item. 

“Did we leave the stove on, or what?” Marianne asked dryly when all Dawn had given them to go off of was ‘I can’t believe you two!’ They were sharing the studio couch watching the second season of Gargoyles and were very unsure what they had done wrong.

“That would require you using the stove, Mari, which you don’t so no,” Dawn said, momentarily distracted. Marianne scowled but her sister had moved on already. “I can’t believe you guys honestly aren’t doing anything today!”

“I- we do… things everyday, Dawn, or near enough,” Bog said plaintively. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I mean do something special!”

Marianne cocked her head. “Why would we be doing something special? Bog, did we miss an obscure holiday?”

“I’m sure it’s ice cream sandwich day somewhere,” he said. “But I don’t really know how you do something special for that. Your fridge is already full of those schwans things.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Dad keeps paying for our subscription. Seems to think we won’t eat right if he doesn’t.”

“He’s right.”

Dawn threw her arms up, further irritated by them changing the subject. “Oh for goodness sake, both of you - It’s your _anniversary_!” 

They fell silent and, in unison, both blinked at her, completely lost.

“It is very much _not_ our anniversary, Dawn,” Marianne said slowly, as if her sister was a small, soon-to-be-disappointed, child. “It’s been a month, and sorry, but I’m not going to be the type to celebrate one month anniversaries.”

“It hasn’t been a month,” Bog said, looking at her again. “It’s been three weeks.”

“Oh please, it’s totally been a month.”

“No it hasn’t - I have it in my calendar,” Bog said before he could stop himself.

Marianne raised her eyebrows. “You have it in your _calendar_? What, does it say ‘ _Day I finally got over myself and asked out my best friend_ ’?”

“Oh, leave off,” he growled - he could feel his face growing hot. 

“No, I’m curious now!” Marianne laughed. “Are there hearts? With little ‘ _Mr. Bog Summers_ ’ doodled in there?”

“I have never been so insulted in my life,” he said, looking heavenward in exasperation. “That you would believe such a thing of me - I’m _wounded_.”

“You put it in your calendar,” she countered. 

He grumbled something noncommittal to that, still red in the face. The actual calendar, a planner his mother gave him that mostly collected dust and cataloged Doctor’s appointments, didn’t have anything written in it on the date Bog finally got over himself. All it had was one of the stickers Marianne  - and Dawn - had taken to giving him after said Doctor’s appointments stuck on the date; a small blue flower on an otherwise blank day.

Dawn looked between the two of them. “As uncharacteristically cute as that is of you, Boggy, you both are still missing the point.”

“Which is…?” Bog prompted, ready to move the subject anywhere else.

“It’s been a year since you two _met_!”

They stared at her, speechless again. 

Finally Bog muttered, “Has it, really?”

“Yeah, and how do you know when we first met,” Marianne accused. “Did you put it in your calendar?”

“Nooo,” Dawn said, “But I do have a picture of you covered in glitter on my phone and the time stamp is a year ago today.” 

Marianne groaned. “Don’t remind me. I was washing my hair out for days.”

“You and me both,” Bog said absently. “And why do you still have that picture in your phone?”

“Because I am both prophetic and a genius and knew someday I would need it for when I make collage for your actual anniversary, or your wedding… whichever comes first.”

“Please don’t,” Bog and Marianne said in unison. Marianne smiled quickly at Bog, before adding. “Expect to have that picture deleted the next time you leave your phone unattended. I do not forgive, and I do not forget.”

“She doesn’t,” Bog affirmed, still not paying the conversation his full attention.

A year, had it really been a year since he’d happened upon a tiny pixie of an art student hiding in his tool cupboard. She’d immediately made an impression on him, feisty little fairy that she was, but he never would have guessed- he could never have predicted the effect she’d had on his life.

What had he even _done_ , before Marianne had entered his life? Work and school, more of the same, he supposed, but there had been something colorless about it that he never could have named. He hadn’t considered himself unhappy with his life, certainly art school had helped in that degree but… what had it been like when all he had done was come in at night, worked alone, without her company, her argumentative nature? Even when they worked in silence her presence was enough to brighten the room with a light of her own.

Suddenly, Dawn’s interest in it being an _anniversary_ made more sense than he would ever say aloud; it was like meeting Marianne had begun a new era in his life, the same way one began when he moved from the Highlands, and when his father died. It was a marker as important as anything else that had happened to him, more important perhaps because all Bog could think now was how he would never, ever want to go back to a time before Marianne was a part of his life.

“Bog,” Marianne said presently, shoving her shoulder against his. “Back me up here!” 

“What?”

“You’re useless,” she said affectionately. “I’m saying why does it matter that we haven’t done anything? People don’t really celebrate friendship anniversaries… that I know of. This is what we always do - well this, and art, and occasionally paintball… point still stands; what better way to celebrate than that? Right?” She nudged Bog again, gentler this time.

“Right,” he said immediately, and she smiled again. He looked at the studio around them, the screen still paused at the Gargoyles opening sequence, at Marianne at his side… and then back at Dawn with a shrug. “This is enough.”

And it really was.


	2. 50's Florist/Tattoo Parlor AU

Bog King stood in front of the Butterfly Bog Florist, his head cocked in confusion. In the large front window were hearts and red paper chains and more importantly, filling up the entire glass plain, large, red paper letters spelling out the word ‘LOVE’.

“Isn’t it nice?”

He blinked startled, and looked away from the shop window to the petite girl who had appeared next to him. Marianne Fairwood was dressed for work in a white button up blouse and khaki pants, in the process of tying her green apron behind her. A purple scarf pushing back her bangs and her lips were a darker stain than perhaps most considered appropriate for a young woman. 

He was distracted by her only momentarily before looking between her shop and her as if trying to reconcile what he saw.

“It’s- somethin, Tough Girl, I’ll give you that.”

She laughed, tossing her head back. “You have your aunt to thank for it. Seemed to think I wasn’t festive enough.”

“Her and my mother both,” he said, rolling his eyes. “That explains where you got it but nothin made you put that monstrosity up. Ye don’t care what my aunt thinks of you.” It wasn’t a question.

She shook her head. “You got that right.” She looked away from him and back at the sign. “I felt like indulging her for some reason...” 

Bog watched her face as her easy smile softened. “Wanna clue me in?”

Again she looked at him. “It’s been a year, this week.”

“Oh.”

The wicked little grin of hers returned. “Yeah, _oh_ , mister. And don’t flip on me I’m not expecting no big romantic gestures from Bog King. You’ve already given me a tattoo.”

He had, for her birthday, some months after they’d started going together, but he still felt the event required... something. Bog hadn’t been as happy as he was with Marianne at his side... really in all his life. She was every bit as wild as he was, but there was a gentle affection about her that he had never realized he wanted but knew now he could never be without.

And yeah, maybe a lot of Bog’s days of late had been spent thinking of places to get her a rock, hoping the days would warm up soon so he could take her out of town on his bike to some quiet little place to pop that question. Both his mother and aunt knew it, and looking at the LOVE sign he had a feeling this was their way of saying ‘ _Get on with it already_ ’. 

He sighed, and Marianne looked up at him. Afraid she might read his thoughts and plans in his expression, he quickly searched for a way to distract her. “The V looks like an F,” he said.

Marianne blinked before staring at the sign. Indeed whoever had cut the letters had attempted a cursive script that made them near incomprehensible. “Look at that, it does. Lofe.”

He chuckled, and they both smiled at each other a moment. Finally she adjusted her apron, with a small sigh. “Probably ought to open up, now.” 

“Me, too.” He hadn’t meant to get sidetracked by the sign, although seeing her before starting work was a definite perk. “Ah, Mari,” he said quickly, before she could leave.”

“Mmhmm?” 

“What d’you say you an’ I take a ride tomorrow - head out of town for a bit?”

Marianne looked startled, but not suspicious, and after a second her face relaxed. “I’m down,” she said, winked, and turned to unlock the florist doors.

Bog followed her with his eyes until she disappeared behind the LOFE sign. Then, with a small smirk, he stuck his hands in his pockets and continued his walk, wondering how late jewelry stores stayed open in this town.


End file.
